Harry Potter and the Amulet
by zebraFinch
Summary: .:What if Voldemort made a mistake on the curse he used upon James Potter. Is it possible? James...alive? Harry meanwhile is having the worst summer. (HG, RHr OC(PLEASE R&R)
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Harry Potter, James Potter, Voldemort… OK, I hope you get the idea now, cuz if you don't, I will personally seek you out harass you until you say I don't own it (though I really wish I did then I'd be rich).

(This thing has kinda been in my head for a _long_ time. I just need to get it out, for it is taking up extremely valuable space in my brain. (Not that my mind isn't all cobwebs and dust anyway.) I'm sorry if it's been done before, it's just that they got it down first. Only a month ago I actually found out existed! Yeah… so, I hope y'all enjoy it. PLEASE R&R AFTER YOU READ!)

.:What if Voldemort made a mistake in the incantation used to kill James Potter? Is he… alive? Meanwhile, Harry is getting ready for his 6th year and You-Know-Who has a sinister plot in store…:.

An undisclosed location in Scotland

Bellatrix Lestrange prostrated herself before a cloaked figure in front of a fireplace. The tall, ominous form, paced around in front of the fire, shape made mysterious by the glow of the fire. The person's face was shielded by the hood of his cloak, black enveloping his body. The woman at his feet was shaking, small whimpers coming from her.

"M-My Lord," she stuttered, "I just wanted to know how-,"

"Without properly studying the reverse curse, Bella?" hissed the figure in front of her, now halted and staring down to the frightened Lestrange at his feet.

"I thought it would be effective, seeing as how you want to use it on-," she continued.

"It was my plan for _me_ to use it on the boy, not _you!" _he thundered, but tone was still a quiet, snake-like hiss.

"But I-,"

"Do you know what happens to subordinates who think they are above everyone else?" he questioned menacingly, throwing back his hood and bringing forth a long wand in one fluid motion. "I know you know what happens when someone disobeys Lord Voldemort."

Bellatrix trembled and bowed even lower, kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. He raised a foot and kicked her away, red eyes glaring at her, cat-like slits for pupils in the center. She flinched and rose her face up a little to look at him, trying not to make eye contact. She knew he hated people looking him straight in the eye. Her lower lip trembled as she thought of an excuse for him.

"Forgive me, My Lord, but I was thinking it could be useful in other situations for interragation…"

Voldemort tightened his grip around his wand and looked as if he were going to place a curse upon her, but then relaxed, nodding as he processed her hurried reply.

"Perhaps, but you'll still need the reverse part of the curse to do a proper torture," he said, raising his wand once again. Bellatrix jumped and he gave a cruel cackle, "Not intended for you, I'm just demonstrating, though your punishment will come…"

He swirled the wand through the air in a complex motion, taking a deep breath to pronounce the counter-curse.

"Unconsium, reverlerse!" 

Suddenly, a white stream burst out the tip of his wand, so hard that it threw him back a few paces. A look of fury was upon features as Voldemort watched the stream of light whip through the window, cracking it as it traveled along into the night. Then, there was silence in the room for more than a minute. He turned to Lestrange, who was still staring at the window that the light traveled though, open-mouthed. He let out a great roar of fury, striding forward and pointing his wand at Bellatrix. She scuttled away until her back bumped into the wall, hugging her knees to her chest as she shivered at those twin pity-less pits of hell, staring holes through her.

"**_YOU TOLD ME YOU HAD NOT PREFORMED THE CURSE, BELLA!"_** he screamed at her, fury etched upon that merciless visage.

"I-I d-didn't!"

"_CRUCIO!" _he bellowed, a jet of red hitting Bellatrix Lestrange squarely in the chest. Her yells of pain faded into the darkness.

* * *

Meanwhile, the jet of white light had traveled at lightning speed across the British countryside. It came to a small cemetary, striking a tombstone and shattering it into a million pieces. Before it hit, the gravestone had read:

Here Lies **JAMES ERICSON POTTER **Devoted husband

_Loving father_

Loyal friend

The lightning white beam hit the ground and traveled deep into the earth, disappearing from view. Inside, James Potter, the father of Harry Potter, opened his eyes for the first time in fifteen years.

James Potter slowly cracked open his eyes, taking in a gasp of air. This was the first time he had seen anything since going into a comatose state fifteen years ago. He yawned and stretched his achy joints, but was not able to extend for more than a few feet in any direction. He felt around, and realized, to his horror, that he was inside a place where nothing should be. A coffin. His breath immediately became short from the stale air around. A large inhale was taken and he held his breath, wanting to save any spare oxygen.

Since it was dark, James began to feel around, searching for some way to get himself out. His hand closed around a thin stick of wood. He grasped it, disbelieving.

"_Lumos,"_ he murmured, and the wand tip became alight, shining within the closed space. His hazel eyes gazed around, seeing stale, white padding inside the oak coffin. The _alohamora_ charm was tempting to use, but that would mean the collapsing of tons of dirt right on top of his head. A sudden thought came to him. If he did the incantation and quickly changed into the stag, he might be able to pass his way through the dirt.

"_Alohamora!"_

Immediately, the coffin unlocked and dirt had already begun to spill in. James transformed into a stag, Prongs, and gathered his weight, pushing up, heaving forward with all his strength. He broke the surface of the loose soil easily, gasping for air as he rose the rest of the way out. He stood there for a minute at his grave, panting from the effort.

He began to try and transform back into a human, but the snap of a twig caused him to stop, whirring around, deer senses now alert. He squinted into the darkness, seeing three small shapes in the shadows. Head was lowered, antlers menacing for an attack of some beast. But three small, timid voices immediately threw him off.

"There's no supposed to be deer here," said one of the small forms.

"I thought I just saw it come out of a grave over there," replied a little girl's voice, "Whose is it?"

Yet another voice said, "Lillian Evans Potter."

"Why did you dare me to come here?" snapped the little girl, "It's freaking me out!"

When they first started their whispered discussion, James watched the children with amusement, but at one of the boy's voice, he felt his heart drop. He backed away towards a stone beside his, which had the name of his wife upon it. Still in his deer form, he stumbled away, turning to gallop away. Everything was blocked by vines except the spot by the children. James heaved into a run, leaping over the low fence and whisking by the frightened children. As he cleared the fencing, his depression became even larger as he saw one of the boys had black hair and bright green eyes. He reminded him very much of his own baby.

Harry… 

In his blind grief he had not even bothered to look for Harry's gravestone. It was best, because it would have made him even more depressed. They did not escape the attack. Even though James did not see Harry's, he knew that it was not possible. A baby could not survive that immense power.

James cantered down the road in his stag form, breath coming in short gasps. Finally he came to a halt near the beginning of a culdesac, changing back into his human form. He glanced around the street, shoulders slumped from grief and exhaustion. Running around after fifteen years in a grave is no walk in the park.

He slowly began to walk down the street, hazel eyes darting around the darkness. He wanted something familiar, something to at least be there as a shred of memory. He came to a halt at a blank lot at the end of the circle, a black hole in his emotions.

His house had disappeared. Not even a mound of rubble was there. Only overgrown foliage and vines covered the lot, with the scattered pieces of roofs strewn here and there. Disbelieving, James took a step to the remnants of his home.

Through the old pieces of rubble he walked and searched, overturning insulation and dusty boards. His arm brushed the branches of a new tree- well- the tree was older than a sapling, but it had not been in the middle of his living room before. A bowtruckle hissed at him. James drew forth his wand and sent out a shower of sparks threateningly. The tree-guardian hissed again and retreated further into the branches of its chosen tree, watching James rummage through the scattered remains of his house.

His hands rested on old fabric. He grasped the black cloak with crimson trim, hugging it to him. This was Lily's old cloak, but it would do. Instincts told him he needed a disguise. People must know he was- had been- dead or something like it, so he should not be walking around in broad daylight without covering his features in some way.

James stepped out of the lot, walking back down the sidewalk. He turned around one last time, gazing at his house. A sigh was let forth and he turned away, getting out his wand once again. He muttered the words required for Apparation and disappeared into the night.

He hurdled through space, journeying to a place he knew would have answers, somewhoere tha he could take refuge in.

James came to a hurtling stop, knees buckling as he hit a worn path. His gaze traveled up, a small smile coming to features for the first time. The spires of the castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry greeted James Potter for the first time in years.

Meanwhile, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, jumped awake, screaming

* * *

Harry had startled awake, hands pressed upon his forehead. He was panting hard, the ends of his fingers tingling unpleasantly. He fought to keep himself under control, nausea rising within him. He was still shaking and sweating, covers strapping to his sweaty body like a straightjacket. He could not help feel the sensation of Dejavoo all over again. This was coincidentally like that summer two years ago when he had awoken from that dream- or vision.

Harry groaned when he heard the furious, heavy footsteps of his uncle. Uncle Vernon slammed into the door, wrenching it open. His purple face stared back at him, eyes bulging in fury. His hand reached down and grabbed Harry painfully around the neck.

"You dare to yell like some maniac in my house, boy!" he yelled. Suddenly he yelped and drew away, shaking his hand. A small welt was on the palm of his hand. The blister was only small though, not a bad as Quirrel when he attacked Harry before. But that was Voldemort, so maybe wounds were not as bad for someone else..

Harry was disturbed by this. Only when someone had the intention to kill or physically harm him by their own hands did they get blistered. Did Vernon want him dead? Ever since he had returned back to the Dursleys, Uncle Vernon had been more violent than usual despite the threats of Moody. But it had only been two weeks since the return Harry made to the Dursleys, so he did not have time to reply to Lupin, Moody, the Weaslys, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe he was taking out all the build up of anger he had on Harry that had gathered over the years upon him this summer.

Vernon continued to glare at Harry.

"Dark weirdoes coming after family and now this," he muttered, examining his hand. The blister was not that bad, but it was right in the middle of the creases of the palm. He cast a dark look at Harry one more time and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry sat back upon the bed, breathing deeply and massaging his neck. The encounter with his uncle faded away quickly as he tried to remember his dream- more or less a vision. He knew it was not a dream because his scar still stung painfully. He rubbed a hand on his forehead, wishing that he did not have the scar. He closed his eyes and lied back, trying to remember it.

_He had been Voldemort… Bellatrix Lestrange had been cowering before him._

At the thought of Bellatrix, Harry felt immense grief and rage rise up within him. It had only been a couple of months since the death of Sirius, but the wound of sorrow felt new. It broke open and bled internally every day, guilt sometimes flooding along with that flow of emotion. He wanted to hurt her-no- kill her as much as he loathed Voldemort. The last parental figure had been torn away soon after coming to him. Why did things like this have to happen? Harry felt it was not fair. What had he done to be in this fateful position? He did nothing wrong…

He went back to trying to remember the dream, which had become foggier by the second.

He- Voldemort- had been scolding Lestrange about something… What were the exact words? A "comatose-like state"… Who was in that and why did Bellatrix want to learn the curse? When Voldemort taught her the counter curse, he had been thrown back, and that was when the cascade of fury merged over the bond of the Curse That Failed to Harry's emotions and perception… And there was a picture of someone, the anger rising in a tumult when Voldemort pictured this person… the picture was hazy, but Harry thought he could figure out who it was.

Harry suddenly relaxed, not knowing exactly what he was doing. His breathing became deep and steady, as if he were sleeping, yet his senses were at full alert. Harry felt his mind start to wander- wander across a bridge of some sort. He relaxed further, his mind journeying across this bridge. He came to a figurative door, and tentatively and mentally pushed it open. There were storage things here… _memories._ Harry was in someone else's mind, and he had a sneaking suspicion whom. With astonishment, it dawned upon Harry that this time, their positions had been reversed. Right now he was performing a certain kind of Legimancy(sp?) upon the Dark Lord's mind. And for now, Voldemort had no idea he was there.

There was hate here, a being consumed by hatred and far from the realm of being saved. There were memories here too. To his horror, Harry "bumped" into a thought Voldemort was thinking right now. There were swirling shapes- unintelligible things- Harry found that Voldemort rested on one thought. In fact, it was a sort of picture. Voldemort was picturing someone in his head. There was no mistaking it, the Dark Lord was thinking about Harry right now, with intense rage.

Suddenly, Harry felt the vision shift to another part of Voldemort's mind, a memory.

There was a door in front of him- well, Voldemort- and muffled shouts could be heard inside. A man's panicked voice. Then, the man's voice said a charm, _Collapatorus! _The locking charm. Voldemort laughed and undid the charm with a simple counter-curse, and burst open the door. He looked around the room, eyes scanning every part of a living room. The place was somewhat familiar to Harry… in a way he could not explain.

Harry saw the Dark Lord's gaze shift to the left side of the room. Another maniac laugh came. Harry tensed when he saw who Voldemort was looking at.

"Surprise, James." came the evil hissing voice.

James.

James Potter…

Harry's _father…_

It dawned upon Harry. Voldemort was reliving the night he killed Harry's parents.

James was standing in front of the stairs, wand out and the other arm outstretched. He was barring the stairway. His hazel eyes were livid with anger and a small amount of fear. Harry felt an ache in his heart at the familiar, yet so unfamiliar face of his parent. Voldemort advanced further. James raised his wand.

"_Gardilum!"_ he yelled, a jet of orange light coming from the tip.

Voldemort deflected the curse and came forward. James stepped back, but then came forward again, sending another curse towards Voldemort, who once again avoided it.

"I thought you could do better than that James, after all, aren't you an Auror?" taunted Voldemort.

"Get out of my house, you piece of filth," hissed Harry's father, glaring at the leader of the Dark side.

Voldemort chuckled.

"I'm not here for you, Potter. And yes, I know your pathetic family is up stairs. It's a shame you can't protect them."

Voldemort sent the body-binding curse towards James, who's quick reflexes enabled him to dodge it just in time. Harry heard the creaking of a stair and Voldemort glanced up, seeing the pale face of a red haired woman. Voldemort started to move towards the stairs, which were now unblocked since James had dodged Voldemort's last attack. As he set one foot on the stairs, James rammed into his shoulder, causing him to stumble back.

James started to say a curse to the distracted sorcerer, who in a hurry cackled and said:

Avaida Kadavria!" 

The memory suddenly ended, but the words kept on repeating over and over again.

Avaida Kadaivia… 

Harry felt Vodemort feel a twinge of regret and rage, but did not know why. He had killed his dad, so why was he so angry. Suddenly, Harry felt the Dark Lord shift into the present. A pain, not on his scar, was inflicted upon his head.

His whole body was on fire- someone was pushing him mentally away- so powerful it was physically paining him. There was rage… Voldemort suddenly found out that he was not the only one examining his own memories. He realized that Harry was there.

Instantly Harry disconnected himself from that bridge of the Curse that Failed. He was sweating and shaking, feeling slight confusion. What was Voldemort so angry about that fateful night fifteen years ago?

Harry made up his mind and leapt off his bed, opening the wooden storage chest at the foot of it. He bent over, rummaging through the trunk until he found his eagle feather quill and a piece of parchment. He switched on the light at his small desk in the corner of the room. Even though dawn was coming, it was still very dark. Harry dipped his quill-tip in the ink and started to write.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_This morning I woke up with my scar hurting from a vision I had earlier this morning. Voldemort was scolding Bellatrix Lestrange about something. Somehow I managed to get into his mind and he had a memory of the night when my parents died. He got really mad when he said the killing curse, which I didn't think sounded like "Avada Kedavra" but I don't really know. He found out I was in his mind and pushed me out before I could see anything else. I don't know how I got into his thoughts in the first place. I'm extremely confused and I wonder if you could somehow help._

_-Harry_

Harry gave a small, displeased chuckle at his letter. It sounded so stupid, but how else could he explain what happened?

He rose from his desk and walked over to the window, opening it into the night. Hedwig liked to hunt at night, then at dawn would rest at the tree beside Harry's window, then come in when Harry opened it.

Harry looked outside and saw his white owl in the tree, head tucked beneath her wing. She lifted her head and looked at him, lifting off the branch and flying in. She landed upon Harry's shoulder, giving him a loving nip to the ear. Harry walked over to the desk and took the letter, tying it to her leg. She begrudgingly stuck out her foot, hooting her displeasure.

"Sorry I have to keep you up, girl," said Harry, stroking her feathers. "But I need to get this to Dumbledore, and I know you can find him."

Hedwig hooted again and flew out the window, her white form quickly becoming a priprink of white in the distance.

Harry sighed and walked to his bed again, throwing himself down and crossing his arms. He wished Sirius were here. He would know what to do, even though Dumbledore was wise. What Harry really needed was someone who understood…

A father…

((A/N: Hey y'all, hope you enjoyed the story. Don't know where exactly I'm going, but I'm having some feelings. I promise to update soon, but right now I'm writing two stories at the same time. (If you wana read the other story, it's a Kim Possible fic titled "Could it Be?" by me, zebrafinch.

As for the meaning of my name, it's a secret. Nah, not really. It was just a burst of inspiration that I thought sounded cool. Zebrafinch is actually the kind of bird I have looks around sheepishly .

Okay, so, please READ and REVIEW!))


	2. Chapter 2

((I'm so proud of myself! I finally came up with a pretty cool plot and title. Of course I need to get around to changing the title… Sooooo… how'd y'all like the 1st chapter? I will hopefully come up with chapter titles in the near future. Thanks to , and for the great reviews! In this one, I think I'll bring more characters in, plus a new character, though it may now presicely be in this one. And-

Sirius: HEY! (charges in)

Me: What?

Sirius: What about me?

Me: Umm… You're dead. I'm so sorry.

Sirius: Grr… (storms away)

Harry: You could've given it to him better… C'mon! Bring him back too…

Me: Oh shut up and get back in the story!

Harry: (glares and walks back)

Me: Our special guest today is: Ron!

Ron: BOO-YAA! Where's the nacos? I'm in the mood for some cheezy Mexican Bueno Nacho food!

Rufus: Ooooh… CHEESE!

Me: Umm… Wrong Ron.

Ron: Wha-?

Me: I was talking about Ron _Weasley, _not Ron _Stoppable!_

Ron: Oh… (walks away dejectedly)

Me: Well, Ron's not able to be here right now so, on with the fan-fic!

Okay, my sugar high has worn off a little, so I think I'll start writing now))

* * *

James found himself at the doors of Hogwarts. The familiarities of the campus made him feel a little more secure about his sanity. Tentatively, he knocked upon the huge double doors. A booming echo came in response from inside. James waited a few moments, but got no answer. He was tempted to unlock the door himself and go inside.

As an interruption, a silvery shape came through the door, causing James to feel an unpleasant coldness throughout his body. A ghost with a ruffled blouse barred the doorway, trying to see past the cloak James was wearing.

"Sir," he addressed to James, "If you seek entrance, we cannot grant you that, for it is summer."

"But I wish a counsel with Albus Dumbledore," said James.

"He is not present at the moment," responded the frilled ghost, arching a eyebrow, "And besides, if he was, you probably couldn't get an audience."

James sighed. This was not what he wanted to hear. There were so many things that needed to be answered, and he wanted to know them right away, not find out over a long period of time. Suddenly, an idea came to him. James turned away and slowly started to walk away from the school. Unknown to the ghost, a little smirk was upon his lips.

"One more thing," said the ghost, "Who are you?"

James slowly turned. "No one of consequence… _Nicky…"_

This was one measure of identity that he let slip. Only he and the three other "Marauders" knew this name of the Gryffindor Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick. They had been sneaking out on one of the full moon evenings with Lupin, when they had passed Nick in the corridor with a female ghost, flirtatiously calling him Nicky. From then on they had titled him Nicky.

James let the hood of his cloak fall. At first he was reluctant, since he had been nailed into a coffin. People (and ghosts) most likely thought of him as dead. But now, since Nick had obviously recognized him by now, he turned to face him.

Nearly Headless Nick stared, mouth slightly opened, yet his eyes showed concern.

"Why-how did you come by here Harry?" he asked, "Is something wrong? You don't sound like yourself."

It was not the effect James had desired. He stepped back, confusion deepening at how the Gryffindor Ghost had spoken to him. Did he just call him Harry, his dead son? James and Nick stared at each other for a few moments, not an action nor word exchanged. It was Nick who broke the silence.

"Wait…_James!"_ he exclaimed, gliding over to him. James did not reply, but started to back away, breath once again becoming short from shock. The words Nick had spoken before realizing he was James had disturbed him. Why did he think he was Harry? But Harry was…_dead._

Tears once again came to the corner of his eyes, confusion swirling within. His limbs started to shake. He Apparated, but to where he did not know. When a wizard apparated somewhere, they needed to have the picture of the destination clearly in his mind. Right now, James did not care where he ended up, just as long as he got away from Hogwarts for the moment. He needed to find someone to talk to.

James dropped to the pavement, skinning his knees and hands. He stood and glanced wildly about his unknown destination. His stomach dropped miserably. He wondered where he was- probably halfway around the world.

James walked down the street, not seeing anything familiar. From what he could tell, he was in some sort of Muggle neighborhood, for there were cars and streetlights alit with electricity. He glanced up at the lamp post nearest him. Muggles were strange, he thought. James found it unusual for those people to want blaring light over soft candlelight.

Suddenly, the light James had been looking at went out. James twisted round. True, it was getting lighter out, the sky gray around the edges, but it was still very dark so they shouldn't be extinguishing right now.

He squinted his eyes, noticing a cloaked figure coming towards him. James drew back from the ominous looking figure, stepping up on a porch labeled: _4 Privet Drive._ The other person seemed to not like that. It came closer at a faster pace, withdrawing a wand.

James plunged a hand into his own pockets, grasping his wand. Whoever the other person coming towards him was, he or she was a magical being. James began to back up even more, almost bumping the door of number 4. But as the figure drew closer, he felt his mouth drop open in recognition. The man coming towards him was exactly the man who could help him.

As Albus Dumbledore walked briskly down the street, James got off the porch and went over to meet him. Still, Dumbledore gave no sign of recognition. He came threateningly towards James, wand outstretched, eyes having a livid, protective gleam in them. Obviously Dumbledore wanted him nowhere near the house he had stumbled upon. James backed away, putting his wand back in his pocket.

"Who are you?" demanded Dumbledore, "This is no place for you." His wand tip glowed.

"Wait!" called out James hurridly, "Professor Dumbledore!" He lowered the hood of his cloak.

Dumbledore halted, staring at James and squinting. He continued on towards James, now calm and the usual twinkle back in his eyes. Yet there was also concern there.

"Harry, what-" he walked on, now within a few yards of James.

"J-James Potter!" he exclaimed.

Once again, James was as equally surprised as the other who greeted him, Yet another time ther e was the reference to his dead son. Then there was the stuttering. Albus Dumbledore never stuttered or stumbled over his words. He was always calm and collected. But now he showed otherwise. He did not move his eyes off of James and continued on until he was a few feet away. James opened his mouth to question, but Dumbledore interrupted.

"What's your pen-name?" asked Dumbledore immediately.

James was stunned by this. He did not know what Dumbledore meant by 'pen-name'. All of a sudden, it came to him. For some reason, Dubledore was trying to ask him questions only James would know the answer to.

"Prongs," he responded.

"What is your Animagus form?" Dumbledore persisted.

"An albino Northern Scottish Red Stag." James had done his homework when it came to things that mattered to him.

"What was Sirius a Secret-Keeper for?"

By this time, James was tiring of the interigation. Didn't Dumbledore know who he was by now? Also, James wondered why Dumbledore asked him this question. He was the one who told him and Lily _not_ to use Sirius for the Fidelius Charm.

Then, he grinned wryly. Of course, it was a trick question.

"Sirius was not our Secret Keeper. Peter Pettigrew was for the Fidelius Charm." James shook with fury. He remembered the betrayal of Pettigrew as if it were yesterday, though it was obviously not. He had seen the rat lurking outside the door when Voldemort…

Albus Dumbledore stared at him over his half-moon glasses. James jerked away as he waved his wand and muttered something. A silvery light descended around James, who stood perfectly still, hazel eyes darting around. Finally, the aura disappeared. James checked himself over; nothing changed or happened. Now Dumbledore was smiling.

"I-I can't believe it," the headmaster stuttered, walking over the brick wall of 4 Privet Drive and sitting down weakly. James walked over with him, sitting down beside Dumbledore.

"I am so glad to see you… alive, James Potter," he said, shaking his hand. James was confused, but pleased that Dumbledore believed him.

"Do you know where you are or what year it is?" asked Dumbledore.

"Er- no," replied James. He really did want to know when it was.

Dumbledore chuckled. "For where you are, you are in Little Whinging, Surrey, and it is July 29th, 1997."

For some reason, James did not find this too surprising.

Suddenly, a snow-white owl flew down from the sky from behind them, resting upon Albus Dumbledore's shoulder and hooting. It had a letter tied around its foot. Dumbledore reached around and took it, reading the note. His eyebrow creased in concern.

Meanwhile, the owl was looking at James, tilting its head as if to get a different view. It fluttered off the professor's shoulder and to James, still staring at him with an almost bemused expression. He reached out slowly and stroked the back of its neck. It hooted again and nibbled his finger in a friendly gesture, then proceded and hopped upon his arm.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore had been writing a reply to the letter. He finished and glanced at the owl, a bemused expression coming to his face.

"Come here, Hedwig," he said to the snowy owl. She got off of James' arm and stock out her foot. Dumbledore tied the noted around her leg.

Hedwig hooted, looking at James one last time as she flew off. James turned around and watched the owl fly behind him and to the window of Number 4. She hovered and tapped at the glass, which opened and let her inside. Albus Dumbledore noticed this as well. He got up and walked briskly towards the neighbor's yard, beckoning for James to follow.

James gave one last glance to the open window. He could make out the shape of a person coming over and trying to see out. He couldn't identify them though, because it was still a little while before sunrise. He got behind the tree and saw the person glance out the window, looking both ways then retreating. James felt Dumbledore tap him on the shoulder.

"We'd best get to my office," he said, "Some things need to be discussed. Can you Apparate there?"

James nodded. Dumbledore lifted what James recognized as a Put-Outer, and clicked it once. All the lights sped back on, dimmer than before since they sky was starting to become pink around the edges. With a loud crack, both of them Apparated to Dumbledore's office.

While they were busy talking, neither of them noticed a small figure in the trees, the bright green eyes of its shapeless form staring them down.

* * *

Harry laid on his side on the bed. Since the events of this morning, he no longer desired any sleep. Suddenly, a loud scratch at the window interrupted his thoughts.

Not daring to believe it, Harry raced towards his window. Hedwig was hovering outside, obviously desiring to be let inside. He opened the window and she flew in, fluttering around the room and hooting merrily. Something must have excited her, concluded Harry. Her uncharacteristic hyperness reminded him of Ron's owl, affectionately called "Pig".

Harry called her down by using some Owl Treats, worried that her noise would wake Uncle Vernon again. She landed on her cage, then went inside.

Harry moved over to the window, wondering if perhaps Dumbledore could have been close by. As he glanced outside, he saw the shape of a man gazing right back up at him, but it was still dark so he did not recognize him. The man glanced over towards the neighbors and jogged over to their yard. Most likely someone else had called him there. Harry wondered if they were wizards or not. His suspicions were confirmed when two loud cracks split the air- the sound of someone Apparating.

Harry turned and glanced at Hedwig, who by now had calmed and was napping, head tucked beneath her wing. Harry silently closed the cage. As he turned back around, a sudden movement by the window caught his eye.

A creature was sitting there on its haunches staring at Harry. For a moment Harry considered reaching for his wand, but thought better of it. The animal did not look aggressive. For a moment, Harry wondered if it was a magical being of some sorts. He did not recognize it right away.

The animal's features were almost cat-like in appearance. Its face was angular, snout small. The only thing different was its eyes- they were emerald green and familiar to Harry in an unnerving way. Its fur was auburn red; tail the same color with white stripes crossing it. Its hands and feet were simian; gripping the window sill.

As Harry got closer, he recognized what it was. The animal was one of those creatures from Madagascar; a lemur. He noticed that a kind of necklace was on its neck, wrapped around to keep it on. The charm looked unusual, one he had never seen.

Harry inched closer, holding out his hand to show he meant no harm. The little beast was obviously exhauseted. It was teetering, eyelids drooping. All of a sudden, it pitched forward, plummeting towards the floor. Harry leaped forward, reaching out to catch the lemur- except, it was no longer a lemur.

A teenage girl of about Harry's age hit the floor with a dull thud. Harry ran over and crouched beside her, worried and also slightly amazed. She was the same age as he was, but she was already an Animagus. He wondered who she might be, for Harry had not seen her around Hogwarts. As he knelt beside her, her eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes.

Harry drew back, mouth open in amazement. The girl had shoulder length, wavy red hair the same tint of auburn as her lemur form. Sort of like… But it was the eyes that disturbed him. They were almond-shaped and bright green- just like Harry's eyes! This was obviously not Lily, but maybe…

Harry came forward again, mouth dry and the words unable to come out for a few moments. Finally, they came.

"Wh- who are you?" he asked, voice really low.

The girl did not reply for a few moments. She blinked, obviously trying to get her bearings. Finally, her lips parted.

"C-Chloe," she stuttered weakly, "Chloe Evans…"

* * *

((AN: Hey! This wasn't as long as I wanted it to be, but I really was tempted to leave a cliff-hanger, so I did! I apologize in advance for anyone who doesn't like that sort of thing… Oh yeah! Only one more Friday to go before summer! Beach, here I come! Well, not 'til late June. WAAAHHH!

Did I forget something? Oh yes…

**PLEASE REVIEW!**))


	3. Chapter 3

((Hmmm… was that too much of a cliff-hanger for ya? Not that I care, I love writing those laughs maniacally Oh, umm looks around and clears throat What shall be in this chapter? Writers block has been with me, but insomnia and the dreaded thoughts of Geometry and English finals, plus Star Wars Episode III and the 6th Harry Potter book (only 62 days left!) have left this fan-fic back in the corners of my mind. So, I apologize in advance for the weirdness and unorganization. Well, I'm feeling hyper right now, so let's have some amusement.

Me: (Bangs head on keybord.) "Ow-stupid-ow-writers-ow-block."

Harry: "Who the heck is Chloe! Hell, even I don't know who she is and I'm in the story. Maybe you could clear that up. Plus, I can't wait to see my dear old Dad…"

Me: glares. "Just because you're the main character…"

Harry: "Sorry! Sorry…"

Darth Vadar: (suddenly appears)"Luke, I am your father."

Harry: "Really?"

Me: "Umm, wrong story Anikan Skywalker!"

Darth Vader: (takes off mask) Oh, well, may the Dark Force be with you?" (goes away)

Harry: Why'd he call me Luke?

Me: Nothing…

Hermione: "What's going on? I'd really like to have a spot in the story too…"

Me: "Nothings going on, just a little character/author confrontation."

Hermione: "Well, solve it!"

Harry and Me: (shake hands.)

Daniel Radcliffe: Am I gonna be in the story?

Me: No! Your supposed to be filming the Goblet of Fire right now!

Dan: Oh… (walks away)

Harry: He looked just like me!

Me: Obviously… Well, onto the story!

Well, that was random, and I noticed that I was being awfully cruel to Harry. Sorry! I'll be much nicer next time! BTW, there are some questions that need to be answered, so I'll answer them at the end. NO MARY-SUE! Oh yeah, thanks to: _PadfootObsessed329, Lily Evans Potter Black Lupin, Umi Kanshisha, MissMaeoftheSky , Baka KiusuneBri, Mikey, Calliopeia's Crown, queen-of-monkey magic, Day of Gryffindor, Marauder Queen, andy, amrawo, and PotterScar_! Y'all are so nice!))

* * *

James appeared suddenly in Dumbledore's office, Dumbledore right beside him. As Dumbledore placed the Portkey on his shelf, he looked around. Everything almost looked exactly as it was- Fawkes was upon his usual perch, gracefully looking about the area. The same gadgets were in their exact spots as James remembered.

The only things different were a few new trinkets here and there, plus a sword that immediately caught James's attention. It was long with a golden handle that sported marble to egg-sized rubies. The blade was slightly bloodstained, by James could just make out the inscription on the blade.

GODRIC GRYFFINDOR

James grinned. "Nice sword Dumbledore," he said wryly, "how'd you come by it?"

"All will be revealed in due time James," he said heavily, sitting behind the desk. "for now, please be seated."

James sat down in a chair opposite Dumbledore, looking straight at the headmaster. He noticed that the elder man was seemingly troubled- like he was running through what exactly to say in his mind.

Something must have come to him, for Dumbledore leaned forward and started the conversation.

So you know where you've been for fifteen years, James?" he asked quietly, blue eyes searching James's.

James leaned back and cleared his throat, running a hand nervously through his untidy black hair.

"I'm not sure…" he responded, "It felt like I just-well- woke up after a long sleep. And found myself in my own grave." He smiled bitterly.

Dumbledore nodded, but made no reply. He was obviously waiting for James to say more.

"And…well- I'm not dead, but my family is." He cut off, the lump in his throat preventing him from saying more. He rested his forehead against his hand as a single tear fell, not wanting Dumbledore to see him so emotional. Sumbledore said nothing, but waited for James to gather himself before going onward.

James glanced up as he heard Dumbledore shift uncomfortably in his chair, fingers folded and a small sigh coming from him. This was the second time he had acted flustered around James; uncharacteristically flustered. What was wrong? James felt like asking this, but refrained as he saw Dumbledore start to speak.

"Well," began Dumbledore, "This is my view of the matter. You did not die, for nothing can re-awaken the dead. Even if there was a way, you couldn't be here right now because you are in the same, solid body- your body never disentigrated over time."

"Also, you weren't asleep, for the lack of air and nutrition would have certainly killed you. I suspect that you were kept in a comatose, suspended animation state- quite like when a creature hibernates. The oxygen level decreases and the heart beats so slow that it almost stops. Plus, your body hasn't aged in fifteen years, so that would define the suspended animation part of your comatose state.

James stared at Dumbledore, the explanation simple enough so he could follow; but the subject was so broad that it almost went over his head. He was amazed that Dumbledore could come up with a rational explanation in such a short time.

_But_, James reminded himself, _after all he's Albus Dumbledore. _

"Furthermore," continued Dumbledore, "I think that Voldemort must have made a rare mistake. The incantations for the Killing Curse and the curse that placed you in that state must be simular in pronounciation, for I see no reason whyhe would keep you alive. He most certainly wanted to kill you.

"And my family," added James, a note of pure loathing in his voice. He clenched his fists beneath the desk. "Especially Harry, ever since the prophecy." Tears came to his eyes once more as he mentioned Harry. He missed Lily very much, but James could not stop thinking about his son. If he was correct about the year it was, then Harry would have been almost sixteen.

"Ah yes…" said Dumbledore, "about Harry…"

But James was not fully listening. He was remembering the day that Dumbledore told him the dreaded prophecy and Voldemort's sinister plot.

* * *

James sat in Dumbledore's office, the one-year-old Harry in his lap. He smiled and tickled Harry, who giggled. James loved it when his son laughed. Harry reached forward, grabbing James's glasses and removing them. He looked them over intently for a few moments, then promptly threw them to the floor- a game that most one-year-olds enjoyed. They instantly broke, the frames shattering.

"James!" scolded Lily, who reached down and picked them up.

"_Arculous Reparo,"_ she said, and the glasses magically repaired. As she handed them back to James, an expression of annoyance in her expression.

"What?" asked James innocently, a smile coming to his lips, "It was Harry's fault." He pointed at his son, who giggled and started squirming out of his lap. James struggled with him for a few moments, but gave up and gently set him down on the floor to walk around. Harry wandered around the office, bright green eyes wide with curiosity at he large amount of unusual objects.

"James," scolded Lily once more, "he could hurt himself."

Just then, Dumbledore entered. Harry looked at him and ran over, a smile of recognition on his face.

"Gran'py!" he said, reaching up.

Dumbledore chuckled, bending over and picked him up. Harry reached forward and tried to get his glasses as well. Dumbledore laughed and handed Harry to Lily before he succeded grabbing his specticals.

"Mommy!" said Harry and Lily took him, placing him in her lap.

"Well," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling., "I am deeply honored you taught him to call me 'Grandpa'."

James laughed. "It's easier than Professor Dumbledore for him to say."

"Dubblebor!" babbled Harry.

"Lily, James," said Dumbledore, nodding to each of them as he sat behind his desk, "I have called you both here on grave matters I wish I did not need to discuss with you."

James glanced at Lily. Her face fell, a worried expression replacing the amused, motherly one that was on it moments before. The few months had been extremely tense for them and the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort's power had risen quickly over the past couple of years, his capabilities almost endless. There was now at least one death every day. James looked back at Dumbledore, becoming concerned as well.

"Is Voldemort making new plans?" James asked hurridly. He and the Order had been making plans on intercepting a few of the Death Eaters. He was worried that they would need to change their aims and tactics.

"Yes, but it's not something involved with the order's current issues," Dumbledore added, as if he knew what James was thinking.

"What are they?" cried out Lily breathlessly, "What do they involve?"

Dumbledore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was silent for a few moments before finally speaking.

"Voldemort's plans are circulated around a prophecy."

Dumbledore rose and walked over to one of his cabinets, opening one and bringing forth a bowl. James recognized it as a Pensive. Dumbledore brought it over to his desk, sat it in front of Lily and James, then returned to his seat.

"And the prophecy is about… your son," he said, looking remorsefully at Harry, who was asleep in his mother's arms.

* * *

Harry continued to stare at the teenage girl on his floor- who had slipped into unconsciousness once again. Had he heard her right? Or was it her appearance that threw him off. She looked uncanningly like the young version of Lily he had seen in Snape's Pensive a few months ago. But clearly she had said Chloe _Evans…_

Suddenly, she stirred again, opening those emeralds once more. She blinked, scanning the room. Her eyes rested on Hary. She jumped, startled to see him. Immediately she tried to stand but fell back. Harry waited until she was ready to talk.

"Did you say your last name was Evans?" he asked.

She nodded. "My Dad was your mother's first cousin." It was as if she knew he were about to ask if she was related to him.

"What?" said Harry. He did not hear about a close wizard cousin- for if Chloe's father was Lily's cousin, then that would mean he was Aunt Petunia's cousin as well. And if Lily and this girl's faher were first cousins, then that would mean Harry and Chloe were second…

Harry rubbed his eyes, confused. He had never heard about any close existing relatives before. If they lived near here then Petunia would most certainly have said something about them. But she never did, so why did he all the sudden have a second cousin? Immediately he was becoming suspicious. This could be one of Voldemorts tricks into revealing something.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but how come I've never-"

"Dad's a Muggle," she informed him, "He moved to the US, to Alabama, and there he met Mom, who's a witch."

Harry thought she had a different accent than he did. Now her words confirmed his suspicions.

"Sorry, but I'm just wondering," he asked as she shakily got up and sat down in his desk chair, "How did you manage to come here all the way from the States?"

Immediately, he regretted asking this. Her eyes glazed over with tears.

"You're not the only one whose life's been changed thanks to Voldemort," she said quietly, adding the last part bitterly.

* * *

((A/N: Hmmmm… you like? I hope so. Now, here are some clarifications that I need to say.

**They can't Apparate into Hogwarts:** Yes, I realized this and changed their mode of transportation to a Portekey in this chapter.

**You aren't going to turn this into a Mary-sue are you:**I'm not familiar with that term in fanfiction (since I joined last month) but I have a sneaking suspicion what you mean. And the answer's NO! I am NOT making Chloe and Harry fall in love. That's just sick. And don't think she'll try anything b/c she's from Alabama. I should know. I'm from Alabama and we don't do gross things like that. That was in the 1800s (update your time!)

There is a Ginny/Harry pairing, (my fav) and a Ron/Hermione pairing. I'm just wondering, who should I pair Chloe with at Hogwarts? (not Draco!)

**He couldn't just apparate to Privet Drive:** There is a way (I kind;ve made it up, but still, it's logical and it's my fanfic lol) and it will be explained next chapter.

And here's my constant reminder:

PLEASE REVIEW! 


	4. Chapter 4

((Yo peeplez! OK, that just sounded stupid… Anywayz, sorry for the delay. Finally, the end of the school year has come and I am free for unlimited writing (unless I'm grounded and forbidden from using the computer for two weeks :-) OK, this thing with Chloe and James is getting really complicated, and my little brain has come up with a great possibility. I am changing Chloe's role in the story, so in a way she's sort of my character, but in another way she isn't. Oh well… Yeah, I have a large amount of muse to waste and I am going to update all my stories today, plus post a new on. I really need to stop doing that; I'm overwhelming myself. It's a Stars Wars fic if you want to know. Yes, I just could not resist.

Thank you to: _Baka KitsuneBri, Marie Dantes, Kilikapele (_Thank your for the definitions and tips), _PadfootObssesed329, queen-of-monkey-magic, nandhp, swift tales, _and _missy mee _for all the reviews. Y'all have been great!

"James?" prompted Dumbledore.

James at first did not respond. He had been remembering the day when Dumbledore had told him that their lives would change forever. At least that was what James thought he was telling them. After all, it took his family away, and that was all he could think about at the present moment. Lily and Harry filled his mind- some were memories and some were daydreams of what might have been.

"James," said Dumbledore a little louder.

James started in response, coming back to the real world. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"What we were discussing about Harry," continued Dumbledore.

"Why was there no headstone?" interrupted James. "Didn't anyone bother to think of him?" His voice trembled, rising with anger. "Why did I have to live anyway? What's the use? Lily and Harry are dead."

"But I am telling you why, James," said Dumbledore, taking the moment when James paused to take a breath to jump back into the conversation. "Harry's… alive."

James felt the tears fall, not caring that he was crying in front of the other man. He was only half-listening to Dumbledore, the words he had just said grazing over him. He ran them over in his mind, trying to figure out what the man was saying.

"What did you say?" he asked softly, knowing he had not heard Dumbledore right.

"Just what you thought I said, James," said Dumbledore, "Harry survived. He is alive and well."

James did not react at first. His mouth fell open once more. It had not registered yet, but when it did, the thought slammed James with a full force.

"WHAT?" he screamed, standing up, "How- no- it's not funny, Dumbledore." His hands were balled by his side fists clenching and unclenching.

"Calm down please," said the headmaster. "Why would I lie? Yes, he is living."

"What- where?" sputtered James, "How old- what-"

Dumbledore held up a hand. "Your questions will be answered shortly. As to how old he is, he's fifteen, almost sixteen. And a good deal much like you." He added the last phrase with a small smile.

"I want to see him," said James immediately, heart leaping with jubilation. His son, alive! He felt immense pride in knowing that he survived an attack from one of the strongest sorcerers of all time. What was he like now? Did he resemble him or Lily more both looks and personality wise? James had a suspicion that he looked like him from what he concluded from Dumbledore. After all, he had had black hair when he was a baby and deep green eyes- Lily's eyes. He wanted to know everything. All the thoughts and wondering were hitting him with a huge blast, making him reel at the thought. But there was one question hat surpassed then all.

"How?" he asked, the only word his mouth could form.

Dumbledore seemed to know what he was saying.

"His mother," he told James simply. "She died for him, and that leaves a mark that no one can penetrate- not even Voldemort. Therefore, the curse rebounded and hit Voldemort."

"He died!" exclaimed James, not daring to believe it. But then, he became less enthusiastic at the look in the headmaster's eyes. There was a flicker of remorse and foreboding, something James wanted to know about. Finally, the elder man spoke.

"It seemed that he did at first," began Dumbledore, "but ten years after his downfall his appearance was made known to me. One other time he tried to rise to power, failing." Dumbledore glanced aside for one fleeting second; James saw that his gaze was directed towards the sword he had asked about before. He then looked back, continuing.

"Finally, a little more than a year ago, he succeeded in regaining his body and full power."

"How?" came the repetitive question from James. He wanted to know everything that had happened in his absence of many years, and things were so mysterious and veiled from him.

Dumbledore shook his head, acting as though he did not know, but James knew he did. He decided not to press the matter farther and waited for Dumbledore to say something.

"It seems we have been launched into a full-scale war again," said Dumbledore heavily. James sighed, not knowing what else to comment on. He knew that for some reason the headmaster would not answer any more of his questions.

An owl suddenly swooped into the window, slightly scruffy and small. Dumbledore rose and took the letter it had attached to his leg, scanning over it. James saw the man suddenly pale and glance at James, looking genuinely frightened about something. He quickly balled the note, putting it in his pocket. He turned to James as he took some fine powder from a bucket near the hearth of his fireplace.

"I must go James," he announced, "but I will be back in a few moments."

He threw the powder into the fire, which started to glow a deep emerald green. He stepped into the flames, saying "The Burrow!" and spun away through the Floo Network.

James drummed his fingers, looking around the office and studying it more closely. Fawkes was resting on a perch, observing James through liquid- amber eyes. James rose and started to slowly walk around the room, following a path that seemed to be well walked around the office. So, Albus Dumbledore was fond of pacing…

The portraits around the room were snoozing, and out of respect James tried not to wake them. He looked at one that was snoring quite heavily, a familiar look around him. Dark black hair cascaded around his face in a strangely familiar fashion. Could it be? A Black?

As he was staring, he did not notice a table and suddenly tripped, sending a bowl skidding off towards the ground. He reached for it, diving across the spindly table it was upon and breaking it. Amazingly, the swishing contents of the bowl did not spill, but bulged slightly then settled as it rolled to a stop. James recognized it as Dumbledore's Pensive. He gently lifted it from the floor, muttering "_Reparo_" at the table as it magically repaired itself. He looked at the depths of the Pensive, entranced by its swirling contents. What did they contain? Would it reveal all the mysterious things Dumbledore had been keeping from him? He bent his head close, but was interrupted by the clearing of someone's throat.

"I would not suggest you make the same mistake twice," said the portrait he had been looking at before. "Students, always wallowing in teenage angst and never minding their own business." He shook his head, a little smirk spreading across his features.

"Excuse me?" asked James, not recognizing what he was saying.

But the painting did not listen. It's smirk faded into a frown. "It seems that you were right at the end of last year. Only Narcissus Black remains. For some reason it seems oddly quiet without my Great-great-great-grandson to yell at."

James just stared, extremely confused.

"You look more idiotic with your mouth open than closed," insulted the portrait.

Angry, James started to reply, but stopped as the fire started whirl. Albus Dumbledore walked out briskly.

"Come with me James," he said as he took the Portkey they had used before and it glowed blue again before it went back to its usual form. "You need to put your cloak back on and not let anyone see you, no matter who they are for obvious reasons. We are going to get…someone."

James drew the cloak he had worn before around him, touching a finger to the Portkey just as it jerked them away.

* * *

Harry continued to stare at the girl before him, not really buying her story of being from America. The more relaxed she became, the more native she sounded to Britain. Plus, wouldn't he have seen her somehow in the mirror of Erised? He freshly remembered that experience as if it had happened yesterday. She seemed slightly confused looking as well, looking over the room and then staring at Harry as if she could not believe her eyes.

Harry started to ask more questions, but Chloe rose from the bed and started to pace around the room. Harry continued to stare, realizing that she looked identical to the Lily Evans Potter he had seen in Snape's Pensive. What was going on? She paused and looked at the picture that rested on his night stand- one of Lily and James dancing together. He thought he saw the hint of a tear in the corner of her eye as she walked on, opening the door.

Harry vaulted from the bed, trying to stop her before she exited. But it was too late. Chloe bumped into- well, more like bounced off of- Dudley. Dudley paused at the head of the staircase, staring at her with a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. He let that drop out as he screamed down the hallway.

"MOM!" he yelled "A weird girl just came from Harry's bedroom!"

Harry tried to pull the girl back, but she tugged against him.

"Dudley?" she whispered.

"What did you say Duddykins?" asked the high-pitched voice of Aunt Petunia. Harry groaned and tried to yank Chloe back before his Aunt noticed anything, but it was useless. Petunia hustled up the stairs, looking at Dudley, then noticed Chloe for the first time. They stared at each other. Harry could feel Chloe start to shake- from fear or anger he did not know. The necklace around her neck glowed somewhat, then died back down.

"LILY!" shrieked Aunt Petunia as she fell to the floor in a faint.

Dudley backed and ran into his room, slamming the door and locking it. Harry glanced from Chloe to Petunia. He could not see the girl's face as she bent down, resting a hand upon Petunia's wrist. Satisfied, she stood and looked back to Harry.

"Sorry," she said, quickly looking away.

Ignoring the unconscious Petunia, she descended down the staircase, looking like she knew the place. She opened to kitchen door and looked around.

"Do you think they'll mind if I eat something?" she asked.

Harry shook his head and she grabbed a piece of toast that was still in the toaster, devouring it like she hadn't eaten in days. Harry also reached for some bacon in the pan, eating it. When he finished, he felt someone staring at him and looked at Chloe. Her eyes were intense, with… _love_. Not the kind of love that a woman feels for a man, but something else. Like a parent-child love or maybe even godparent-son, like Sirius and Harry. She did seem to carry herself with more maturity, but what she felt right then, Harry did not know. Quickly she averted her gaze.

A gratified interruption came as the doorbell rang. Harry brushed past her and unlocked the door, peering outside.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he exclaimed.

Albus Dumbledore stood on his front porch, a cloaked figure behind him.

A/N: Kind've short, but still I got the point. I hope I didn't reveal too much with Chloe. Of course saying that may have revealed it already. But if you get who she is, don't ruin it! And I could've typed more, but I wanted to make it a cliffhanger, something I enjoy immensely! evil laugh

And as always, my signature:

**_PLEASE REVIEW!_**


End file.
